


The Difficulty with Life Debts

by Athelassa



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: But let's try the guessing game anyway, Drama, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It will never happen this way in the series, Skye (referenced), speculation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 19:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athelassa/pseuds/Athelassa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to Ward after he got shot in 2x10 “What They Become”. Basically just a speculation fic about what we will get to see in the second half of Season 2. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difficulty with Life Debts

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, I’m a bit late with my own speculation fic, but first I was too shocked about the mid-season finale, after that I had no time at all for writing and then I had some difficulties with penning down my own idea. This story could also be called “The Difficulty of Writing Fan Fiction”. But that wouldn’t have been all that catchy, I guess. Even though I’m not yet completely content with this baby, I still decided to post it. Maybe someone will like it anyway.  
> Oh, and sorry about the mistakes. Non-native speaker here and no beta, so all the mistakes are my own.

Their escape from the crumbling building was hazy in Ward’s recollection. He remembered rubble falling down all around him, remembered the steady support of Agent 33 at his side and his increasing difficulty to get enough air into his lungs. Oh, and the pain. Of course he remembered the deep seated ache in his right side, throbbing with the rhythm of his breathing. He felt an even deeper seated pain whenever he thought about how he got himself into this mess.

_‘Don’t think about it’_ , he told himself internally, willing his body to keep up with Agent 33’s fast pace. _‘Not now. Maybe not ever. Keep moving... Keep moving...’_

The ‘keep moving’ became his mantra and he repeated it in his head until he somehow ended up in the passenger seat of a car, gasping desperately for air. He did not know how exactly he got there. All he knew was that Agent 33 drove the car and he thought it was finally safe enough to pass out. At least that was what he made himself think when he was roused again by a rough shaking after who-knew-how-much time had passed. He hated losing control.

Agent 33 helped him out of the car and Ward thought he could see a neon light above his head, but his vision was swimming so bad, he could not be sure about anything. Where the hell were they? He tried lifting his head some more, but the world just kept spinning. Never mind the where and how. The more important thing was to keep moving and to keep breathing. Some part of his brain – the one that was still working in automatic specialist mode – hoped that his stumbling could be interpreted by suspicious onlookers as a drunk stagger.

After what felt like eternity, Ward realized that they had entered a room and his nose picked up the smell of staleness and bleach. Motel room. Even half-dead, he would recognize that smell anywhere. The panting of Agent 33 was loud in his ears and not a moment later he was dropped unceremoniously on a mattress that squeaked under his weight. The pain in his side spiked and for a moment he feared he would pass out again. His breathing hitched and something blocked his airways. He coughed, though it hurt terribly, but at least he could breathe a little easier afterwards. The coppery taste in his mouth intensified and stayed there, even though he tried to swallow it down. He knew what that meant and again he forbid himself to focus on it.

“What now?”, a synthetically altered voice asked quietly.

When the spots in Ward’s vision had cleared up a bit, he shifted his head to see Agent 33 sitting at his bedside, looking at him questioningly. Her shoulders were slumped and her lips pressed together, as if she willed herself not to cry, looking altogether like a five-year-old girl that lost her mother in the shopping mall. Though she was still wearing May’s face, she looked completely different than the tough S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. May had never looked so beaten and... forlorn.

Not that Ward himself looked much better. If the situation had not been so dire, he might have scoffed at the miserable picture the two of them presented. But he was rather sure his lungs would not permit anything else than short and shallow breaths right now.

“ _You_ ’re free to do whatever you want”, he rasped, suppressing another coughing fit, “but I guess _I_ ’m staying here and try not to die.”

There was a flash of anger in Agent 33’s eyes and Ward immediately felt sorry for his sardonic reply. He was not the cynical type, but telling her the truth – that he had no idea where to go from here – might be an even worse answer. And he was not joking about trying not to die. If he were a betting man he would not wager too much money on him surviving the night.

“You said you’d help me!”, Agent 33 hissed and Ward could detect a faint undercurrent of panic in her voice.

“No”, he told her. “I said _we_ ’ll figure it out. You might want to give me some more time here. Hard to get my head straight with two bullets in my side.”

Agent 33 glared at him and for one moment he was sure she would just reach for her weapon and finish him off. It would probably be less painful and cleaner than what awaited him. He was sure that he could hear a faint wheezing in his chest whenever he drew breath. Not good.

However, she made no move to kill him, but continued to stare at him. Ward watched her intently in return. He did not really know her and to be honest, he had no idea how to handle a brain-washed ex S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. When he had told her they would figure it out, he had been grasping at straws. He had never even thought they would make it this far.

Agent 33 looked deeply upset. She was wringing her hands unconsciously and was staring at him as if he held all the solutions to her problems. Great, he had managed to pick as his partner one of the few people in the Northern hemisphere even more messed up than he was. There was again this urge to laugh hysterically, but he suppressed it.

“Maybe you could take a look at my wounds?”, he asked her instead, his voice and breathing shallow.

She nodded, her hands stopping their wringing and her eyes starting to clear up. Every trace of panic had fled her face when she left to go and fetch towels. Ward was painfully familiar with how she was feeling. Nothing could calm down a troubled mind like a clear task. Or an order, for that matter. The thought made him shudder. Or maybe it was the blood loss starting to kick in. He was freezing, now that he thought about it.

Agent 33 kneeling down beside him snapped him out of his haze. She pushed up his shirt and revealed the bloody mess that was his side. Ward had never been the queasy type (ha, funny thought, a queasy specialist), but looking down not only at the two bloody bullet holes but also at the deep bruises created by the two other rounds hitting the improvisational protection in his jacket made him faintly nauseous. Or maybe just faint. There was a ringing in his ears and the room started spinning madly, so he chose to look at the ceiling instead.

“I’m not sure I can help you”, Agent 33 said, poking his ribs and making Ward hiss with the pain of it. “I’ll try to get out the bullets and clean the wounds with what we have here, but we might need more supplies. Maybe I could get some iodine...”

He shut out the rest and closed his eyes. Or passed out, whatever.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

When Ward came to again, he noticed two things: Agent 33 was watching a sappy romantic movie on the motel TV and his chest was freshly bandaged.

He tried to sit up, but immediately regretted the action when pain flared back alive, making him first hiss and then cough. The coughing fit lasted at least a minute and when he could finally breathe more or less normally again, he was in a world of agony and felt shaky and exhausted. The hand he had pressed to his mouth to cover his coughing was speckled with bright red blood.

“You’re awake”, Agent 33 stated matter-of-factly, eyeing him without a trace of sympathy. She had not even turned down the volume of her romantic movie. He could hear some guy pledging eternal love to his beloved. Ward almost gagged.

“How do you feel?”, she asked, her eyes moving back to the couple on the screen.

“Peachy”, Ward muttered sarcastically, trying to breathe evenly. “Did you get out the bullets?”

It took a moment for Agent 33 to pry her eyes away from the TV and to look at him.

“Just one. The other is still lodged in your chest. I don’t think there’s a way to get it out without cracking open your ribcage. So I left it in there. Your lung is injured, too.” She paused a moment after this neutral and completely cold assessment, then added, “You need a hospital.”

Ward squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again and weakly shook his head.

“No hospital.”

“Then you’ll die”, she replied evenly, her eyes going back to the screen.

Grinding his teeth, he turned his head away from her. There was no way he could go to a hospital. S.H.I.E.L.D. would arrest him in no time and he would spend the rest of his life in a dark hole, serving from time to time as bargaining chip for Coulson’s whims. Nope, thank you. He would rather bleed out in some dingy motel room, with Agent 33 by his side. At least he was not alone, so he could still ask her to shoot him in the head if the pain got too much or suffocation from his own blood took too long. John used to tell him to be more optimistic, but that was as optimistic as Ward could get in this situation.

There was always the _other_ option, but he was not yet desperate enough to even think about it in earnest. It would make him indebted again and he had kind of a bad record with life debts.

“Who did this to you?”, Agent 33 asked and he noticed that she had turned off the TV. Maybe the film was over.

“None of your business”, he replied bitingly, the effort making him cough up more blood. Damn it hurt! The pain was so bad it brought tears to his eyes.

When he was somewhat clear-headed again, he asked back, “Why are you still here?”

“You said you need more time to heal. So I wait”, she answered openly, giving him a look as if he was a bit slow, to ask something that obvious. “But you won’t get better without _real_ medical care from a _real_ doctor. I’m still debating whether I should wait until you’re truly unconscious to drag you to a hospital or to wait until you see reason yourself and let me call for help.” She paused, then added firmly, “You said we’d figure it out and I’ll make sure you’re able to keep that promise.”

“Glad you put so much belief into my word”, Ward replied tiredly. He could not help but think back to the one woman he wanted so desperately to trust him and instead shot him in the back. The coldness in her gaze when she stepped over his fallen body to get away from him would probably haunt his dreams forever.

Agent 33 tilted her head and eyed him calculatingly, then said firmly, “You’re a survivor. You’ll see reason.”

Ward turned his head away to shut her out.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

It was in the night when things got truly bad.

Ward was constantly short of breath and he had these nightmarish episodes when he thought he would suffocate right then and there, only to be able to cough up the blood blocking his airways with his last strength. The wheezing sound in his chest grew louder by the hour. Since he was coughing up fresh blood, he could tell that he was still bleeding internally. He knew he was getting weaker, but the pain was so bad by now that he could not sleep.

It was shortly after midnight when he admitted to himself that he would not see the next morning without help. He spent another thirty minutes trying to tell himself that it was okay, that he always knew he was going to end this way. But then _her_ face (he would not even allow himself to think her name) kept popping up in his mind and for one moment, he saw the snarky girl he trained, the next he saw the coldness in her eyes the moment she pulled the trigger of the gun pointed at him. Out of nowhere, he suddenly felt angry, for the first time in months. How dare she shoot him in the back when he wanted to help her all along? If he died tonight in this motel room, he would forever be the branded traitor and she would never know how wrong she had been about him. He needed to live, he could not die like this. There were things he needed to do and things he needed to set right.

That was the moment Ward realized he had to switch to option two. He hoped he was not too late with his decision. He also hoped option two was even available right now.

“33”, he whispered weakly, the wheezing in his chest turning to a rattle.

“You finally see reason?”, Agent 33 asked calmly. Through all of his torment, she had sat quietly at his bed, the very epitome of patience. It had been infuriating to watch.

“Yeah”, he wheezed. Talking was getting difficult, so he kept it short. “My jacket... Pocket... Phone... Speed dial 3.”

Agent 33 simply lifted one of her eyebrows and then got up to make the call he had reserved only for last resorts.

 

-x-x-x-x-

 

The rest of the night was a painful blur of bloody hands and sheets, a constant struggle for breath and an ever present coppery taste in his mouth.

As soon as Agent 33 had made the call, his mind said goodbye for a while. He slipped in and out of consciousness, never really staying on one side for long. There were two blurred faces peering down at him whenever he was awake, but his eyes refused to focus on them. Breathing was agony and no matter how hard he tried, he just could not get enough air into his lungs. It almost felt like being underwater, a thought that made him struggle weakly against hands that kept him in place. At some point, he was transported and he remembered trying to cry out from the pain, but there was just a wet gurgling sound coming from his throat before he passed out again.

It felt like a very long time until he resurfaced.

When Ward opened his eyes, he saw an old stone arch above his head. He was in a room that was pleasantly dark and cool, maybe a little musty. A bit like on a graveyard, but much more enjoyable. An old basement?

He had no idea where he was, but there was no doubt that he was feeling better than before. More relaxed. It took a moment to realize that his breathing was a lot easier now and that he was relatively free of pain, which could only mean that someone had patched him up and given him pain meds. The good ones, judging from the coziness and wooziness in his body.

Option two had obviously worked or he had died already and gone to heaven. This would be another explanation for the floating feeling. Then he realized that he would certainly not go to heaven but to hell, if such notions of an afterlife even existed.

The opening of a door snapped him out of his contemplation. He turned his head to watch his option two walking slowly towards him.

“I wonder”, Skye’s father said slowly, “if I’ll soon regret the decision to save your life. Maybe I should’ve let you die. I’m not a big fan of rats. Always creeped me out, that sneaky little bastards.”

Ward looked intently at the man he had only met in person once, shortly before everything had gone to hell. They had talked then, about Skye mostly, and Ward had promised him to bring her to him. There had been no need to talk about their shared goal of taking down Whitehall, since Ward had known from the beginning that this was what the other man was after. He had heard enough about Cal Zabo from Raina to know he had found a powerful, if unsteady ally in him. Even now that Zabo seemed rather calm on first glace, Ward could see something flicker madly in his eyes. There was no way to know if Zabo would not suddenly decide to strangle him in his sleep.

“Thank you”, Ward replied in a raspy voice, not even trying to deny the ambiguous role he had played in the past. “For saving my life.”

“Why call me?”, Zabo asked, a half-smile distorting his lips. “Why call the mad doctor for help? You think I’m your friend?”

His fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically, as if he was just one moment away from leaping at Ward’s throat. However, Ward had heard enough about the other man that these slightly manic demonstrations did not faze him.

“No, I don’t have any friends”, Ward replied quietly. “But I heard you have a tendency to pick up strays.”

Zabo eyed him intently, his eyes not giving anything away, before he hummed and then asked, “You heard that, did you? I got to say you’re slightly older than my usual strays.”

“I know”, Ward said and took a deep breath that made his right side gave a twinge of discomfort. There was something in Skye’s father that urged him to lower his defenses and to be honest. Or maybe it was just the drugs, who knew. “I never really had a home, but I guess I’m right now more lost than ever before. So is the woman that was with me in the motel.”

“So the two of you came here looking for shelter and guidance?”, Zabo asked curiously, tilting his head a little.

The snort that forced its way out of Ward’s throat hurt his side.

“Shelter yes”, he replied with a wince. “But no ‘guidance’. We’ve had enough of that to last a hundred lives. If you’re looking for minions, you can save yourself the trouble and kill me right now. I’m done serving anyone.”

Zabo stared at him, his eyes glinting wildly, and for a short moment Ward realized what it must feel like to be considered as prey. He was more used to stand on the other side, to be honest. However, the moment passed quickly and Zabo clapped his hands once, a smile breaking out.

“Wonderful”, he commented. “This would have awfully felt like the blind leading the blind, in my opinion. So what are you offering me for helping you?”

Ward paused to think about this, running a tired hand across his face.

“I can’t offer you anything, because I don’t have anything”, he answered honestly.

“Wow”, Skye’s father said and nodded his head earnestly. “That’s a truly bad deal.” He paused, then added, “I’m thinking on it.”

Having said that, Zabo turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Ward to stare after him.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

Ward slept some more after the conversation with Zabo and awoke when an unfamiliar woman walked into his room, carrying a tray. He instantly felt on edge, but when she came closer, he noticed a faint scar around her left eye and a suspicion rose in him.

“33?”, he asked guardedly and eyed the woman intently. She was dark-eyed and dark-haired, with high cheek-bones and olive colored skin. There was no doubt that she was beautiful.

“Yes”, she answered and Ward could hear that she still had May’s synthetically altered voice. “Cal was able to get the mask off and he promised me to bring my voice back, too.”

There were other things that had changed beside her face that Ward picked up on immediately. First, she had called Skye’s father “Cal”. Sure, Ward might have lost a day or two because of his wounds and the drugs knocking him out for good, but it was still an awfully short time for her to get so familiar with Zabo. It probably had something to do with the fact that the doctor had helped her restore her face. Then secondly, there was something else different about her and it was not just her new/old face. Ward immediately noticed that she looked calm, almost serene. There was even a small smile playing around her lips and she looked completely at ease with where she was and what she was doing. No trace of the lost and panicky woman that had helped him out of a crumbling building.

“You look... good”, Ward said, but could not stop the uneasy feeling that instantly took hold of him. Carefully, he sat up in bed and watched Agent 33 pour him a cup of tea.

“Thank you”, she replied with another small smile and handed him the filled cup. “You look better yourself.”

It must be true, because Ward could not deny that he felt a lot better. The pain still haunted every one of his breaths and it would be weeks if not months until that and the crunching in his ribs whenever he moved would stop, but he could deal with that. Had done so before. He was just grateful that he no longer felt as if he would drown any second and that he could draw breath freely. There were times you had to be content with small things.

“Cal worked on you for hours”, Agent 33 explained while Ward sipped his tea slowly. “You should make a full recovery, though it’ll take a while. You owe him your life.”

Ward felt a twinge in his chest that had nothing to do with his wounds. That was exactly the part he was uncomfortable with. Sure, Zabo had told him he was not looking for lackeys, but the fact that he was deeply indebted to him could not be denied. Dependency did not work like a contract where it was clearly stated which tasks both contracting parties had to fulfill. It was much more subtle and manipulative than that, and Ward had more experience with it than he was comfortable with. After his epic fuck-up in trusting and following Garrett, he had sworn himself to _never_ maneuver himself into such a dependence again. Not with S.H.I.E.L.D., not with Hydra or anyone else. But history seemed to repeat itself, because he was still too _fucking_ weak to look out for himself.

Since Ward did not reply, Agent 33 continued, “It’s okay. He saved my life, too. He gave me back my face and promised to do everything to get back my memory as well. He was very kind to me.”

The devotion in her voice rubbed Ward the wrong way.

“You don’t owe him everything”, he bit out sharply. “Don’t you ever let yourself believe that.”

There was mild surprise in Agent 33’s eyes when she replied, “I can’t see your problem, I just...”

“You were brain-washed!”, Ward interrupted angrily. “You _want_ to comply, you get that? Whoever knows that can play you like a fiddle.”

His outburst left him out of breath and his side was now throbbing painfully. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, Agent 33 was still looking at him in dismay.

“Cal wants to help me”, she tried again with a calm voice. “He wants to undo the brain-washing program, not use it for his own plans. You’re just paranoid.”

Looking at her and her hopeful demeanor, Ward decided there was nothing to be gained from trying to talk her out of it right now and just replied tiredly, “Man is a wolf to man, I’m with Hobbes on that one.”

Agent 33 looked at him intently, then started to gather the empty cup and the jug.

“Get some rest”, she told him, before she left him alone once more.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

After his talk with Agent 33, Ward’s sleep was not as peaceful as before. He received no more visits and that made him antsy. He still had no idea where he was or even what time of the day it was, since no sunlight found its way to his dark and musty room. The longer he thought about it, the more it looked like a prison. Good thing he had quite a good record with prison breaks.

He carefully got out of bed and was satisfied with his body when he was able to stand. Yes, he was still a bit wobbly on his feet and moving around was painful, but he knew his body well enough to give it a chance for a break-out. Good thing was that he was dressed in an inconspicuous black shirt and black sweat pants that were a bit too small on his frame, but at least he would not attract the same attention as when he had fled in his prison garb. Just the shoes were missing, which was a pity, but could not be helped right now.

The room just had one door, encircled by a wall of stone. He went for the door, already looking for tools that would help him break it open. The room was very modestly furnished, it was basically just the bed, a chair and a box that served as a nightstand. He tried the door handle and was surprised when the wooden door creaked open. His surprise only grew when he saw that no guards were posted outside his room. Did they really think he was too weak to get out of bed?

Ward carefully crept up a flight of stairs, his bare feet not making any sound. When he came closer to the top, he realized that he had been held in the basement of an old villa and that it was dark outside, probably in the middle of the night. Very good. He paused shortly to let his labored breathing calm down so as not to make any sound, before he crept up the rest of the stairs and came up beside a spacious living room that was entirely kept in colonial style, which made Ward suspect that he might still be in Puerto Rico. There was no artificial light to be detected anywhere in the house and he was only guided by the faint moonlight that shone through the windows and the patio door. The old parquet floor creaked slightly under his feet and he winced a bit as he made his way towards the patio door that would hopefully lead out in the garden and away from here. For a short moment he thought about finding Agent 33, but then he told himself that she had already made up her mind about where her allegiance lay. He doubted that he could talk her out of it. He lifted his left hand to the door handle (his right arm was practically useless) when a voice froze his every movement.

“Already leaving us?”, Zabo’s voice carried easily through the quiet living room and Ward immediately localized him in the dark corner to his right, where no moonlight fell through the windows. “Something wrong with the bedside manner of your female companion?”

Usually, Ward was very good in reacting to unforeseen events and making decisions in a split second, but right now he was hesitating. Should he try and attack? He was pretty sure he could not win that fight since he was already exhausted from walking up a flight of stairs in his condition and Zabo was famous for his strength. Should he try and make a run for it? Maybe Zabo would let him go.

“You can leave, if you want”, the doctor said in a quiet voice, as if he had read Ward’s mind. “The door is unlocked.” He paused, then added, “But I had hoped we could talk about my daughter before you left.”

Ward froze some more, his left hand still on the handle. He did not want to talk about Skye, in fact he had tried to make himself forget about her completely in the last few days.

“She was the one who did this to you, wasn’t she?”, Zabo asked on while Ward stood by the patio door. “I wish I could say I don’t know where she gets that violent streak from, but... well...”

Ward could hear the awkward shrug in the other’s quiet voice, even though he could not see him in the dark. There was a great deal of vulnerability in Zabo’s voice and it finally made Ward turn away from the door and walk slowly towards the dark corner to his right. As he came closer, he could make out the dark shape of a man, sitting in an armchair and Ward sunk down on the sofa opposite of him. His body thanked him for the rest.

“I had always hoped to see similarities between me and my daughter”, Zabo continued and Ward could see the other’s eyes glinting in the moonlight. “But I had never wished to see the same violence and the same hatred in her. Her mother was so different. Filled with light, kind, curious about the world, funny, sometimes too stubborn for her own good.”

Ward felt his throat clamp up a bit at that and had to clear his throat twice before he could speak.

“Your daughter used to be a lot like that”, Ward explained in a hoarse voice. “When I met her, she was that snarky and absolutely endearing girl who annoyed the hell out of me and always got away with it. She had all the attributes you mentioned and more. The cold-blooded agent you met a few days ago... she wasn’t always like that.” Ward paused and swallowed hard, then added, “It’s my fault. I hurt her. I screwed up.”

It was dark, but his eyes had adjusted enough to see Zabo raise his eyebrows at his confession.

“You admit that openly?”, the doctor asked dubiously, eyes glinting dangerously. “To my face?”

“Should I lie?”, Ward asked in return, since he had already decided not to hold back.

“Maybe you should”, Zabo growled and leaned a bit forward. “What did you do?”

“I made her trust me, care about me”, Ward explained slowly. “And then I betrayed her.”

“Then I guess you deserved the bullets to your side”, the doctor bit out angrily.

“I guess I did deserve that”, Ward replied and bowed his head. “I know it was wrong, what I did, even when I was doing it. I was torn between the love for your daughter and the loyalty for the man that made me to what I am today. I picked the wrong side and I can see that now. But it’s too late. There are things that can’t be remedied and my betrayal is obviously one of them. Believe me, I tried. I’m the branded traitor and S.H.I.E.L.D. enemy and whatever I do to try and redeem myself, she won’t have any of it.”

The last part came out more bitter than he intended. Everything he had done in the last few months was to help Skye and to help S.H.I.E.L.D., because he had thought that would please her. He had done everything he could to deserve a second chance, but it was not enough. It would never be enough.

Zabo was silent for a moment, watching him intently, before he asked thoughtfully, “Do you still love her? Would you still do anything for her?”

“Yes”, Ward replied quietly, “and yes. But that’s not the point, because she won’t even tolerate my presence close to her. She shot me four times the last time I tried to help her.”

Zabo hummed, then said, “She pointed a gun at me, too. But a lot of things happened since you last saw her. You’re not really up to date, I’m afraid. Things happened and Daisy will need our help soon.”

“Daisy?”, Ward asked, blinking in confusion. For one short moment he had this feeling that maybe everything had been a horrible misunderstanding.

The doctor snorted, then replied, “You didn’t really think I would name my daughter Skye? Her name is Daisy. Maybe when she finally accepts that name and what she is, maybe you’ll get your second chance. And God help you if you screw up again.” He paused to stare menacingly at Ward, then continued calmly, “She’ll see soon enough that not everything is black and white, no matter what S.H.I.E.L.D. and Coulson try to tell her. And she will come and look for those who live in the grey already.”

“What happened to her?”, Ward asked, feeling his heart beat in his chest.

“Her destiny happened”, Zabo answered with a smile. “You remember the earthquake in San Juan? That was my daughter.”

Ward could hear the pride in the doctor’s voice, but his head was swirling with this new information. What the hell...?

“I don’t understand”, he finally murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Hell, and here I thought you used to be one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s brightest”, Zabo exclaimed, but at the same time reached over to clap him amiably on the shoulder, making Ward wince. “I can’t tell you everything right now, but if you want to help Daisy, you’ll soon learn more. She’ll come and look for me.”

There was confidence in Zabo’s voice and Ward could not help but find that inspiring.

“You’re offering me to team up with you?”, he asked carefully. The reservations he had about working for someone else again had not just disappeared in the last fifteen minutes.

“With me and Kara, yes”, the doctor replied, then, when he saw Ward’s confusion, added, “Agent 33’s real name. Hell, you need to get your names straight. I did some digging and I came across parts of her old file.” Zabo paused to watch him, then added, “You warned Kara about entering into my services.”

Ward saw no reason to deny that.

“Yes, I did. She was brain-washed and I don’t think she’s able to make such a decision for herself.”

“And why would you care about that?”, Zabo asked.

“Because I know how it feels to be completely at someone’s mercy. It’s not a good feeling.”

“It won’t be like that”, the doctor replied carefully. “I’ll try and help her, but she can leave whenever she wants. The same goes for you. I want the best for my daughter and you might be the only one willing to help her whenever she decides to come and look for us. Whatever you do, you do it willingly.”

Ward pondered over that. The only thing that had made him want to live and reach out for help when he lay dying in that motel room was the thought of setting things right and showing Skye that he was able and willing to change. Teaming up with her father might be his chance to do that. On the other hand, he was far away from trusting Zabo. The man was a mystery and he had heard an equal amount of good and bad things about him. He had lost most of his more lunatic traits in their present talk, but Ward was still unsure what to think of him. However, if he turned down this chance and walked away this night, where should he go? What should he do? He had not lied when he had told Zabo he was a stray. Maybe he could disappear and lead an altogether normal life in some distant place. Problem was that he had no idea how to do that and he had some serious doubts that he would find his peace this way.

“Okay”, Ward finally said and looked at the man across from him. “I think I’ll give it a try.”

They were still sitting in the dark, but he thought he could see Zabo smile slightly.

 

_\--Fin--_

**Author's Note:**

> Good? Bad? Unlikely?  
> Would love to hear what you think! Let’s speculate together! :-)


End file.
